Song of the Forgotten
by KaeBird13
Summary: Dick Grayson is having a crappy couple of days - okay, a crappy couple of months. Between starting out as a new solo hero and his fights with Bruce, he should have known that pissing of Klarion would only bring disaster. Heavy on the dis. "You no longer exist," The witch-boy had cackled. "Nightwing didn't die, he was never even born."
1. Chapter 1

It felt like he was flying. No; there was always that rush of falling that started from the pit of his gut and swooped up to his throat with flying. This felt like floating. He was weightless, nothing tethering him to the ground. He was made of smoke, hanging listlessly in the air with nowhere to go. It was almost... peaceful, except that he knew that being on the ground was important. It was dark, and he didn't know if his eyes were opened or shut; he couldn't move, but he did not need to move, he was floating. Floating was... Floating was bad, he wanted to plant his feet in the dirt and spring up to his hands.

He was... Where was he? Who was he? He wanted to move, but he couldn't. It was so dark, black like a night sky but without the stars. He wanted stars and grass and to run and... and somebody. His mind ached for something familiar and comforting.

Red, there was something glowing and red. Had it always been there? No, it had been black and now there was red. Two shimmering dots, like eyes. It was not comforting, it made him feel sick and scared.

Laughter filled the dark space and suddenly he felt that familiar pull in his middle of falling. He was falling, falling, falling, with nothing and no one to catch him.

 _His breathing came out harsh and unsteady as the roar of the battle around him thrummed in his ears. Nightwing scrambled to his feet, his spine aching from his recent surprise encounter with a tree. In the back of his mind, he heard Batman's voice reprimanding him for moving with a possible back injury, but all he could see was Robin with his fists raised as the air around him crackled with power. Klarion, the witch boy, hovered above the battle, arms stretched out as red energy streaked from his fingertips. He cackled gleefully as Jason took a swing. Nightwing saw agony flicker over Robin's face as he put weight down on his bruised ankle and that brief distraction took momentum away from his punch. He ran, desperately, to push Jason out of the way as Klarion dodged the blow with ease and directed the same magical attack that had slammed Dick into a tree towards the youngest member of the team._

Jason. That name was important to him. He felt guilt, anger, and fierce love wrapped up in one messy package with that name. Guilt; he should be a better big brother, spend more time with the kid. Anger; how fucking dare Bruce fire him and bring in a second Robin only weeks later. Did he really need to name him Robin? Robin had been his mother's name for him, and fuck Bruce for giving it away like that. He had no right. Love; the kid was spunky, quick on his feet and tongue, had a huge smile and a desperate need to be accepted that he hid underneath a prickly personality. He would die to protect this kid.

Is that what happened?

Did he die?

He was laying on something, he could feel the press of the ground against his back. It didn't hurt, even though he vividly remembered the explosion of fire in his back when he collided with the unyielding bark of the oak. His limbs still felt immobile, though he could feel something rough and rigid with his fingertips. Everything was a dull shade of red, that pulsed every couple of seconds. The eyes were still there, just above his head. Not just eyes, a face. A face with burning crimson eyes and a smile that promised pain instead of pleasure.

He was Richard Grayson.

He was Nightwing.

And boy, was he in big trouble.

 _Jason's face shifted from agony to cold dread as a bolt of scarlet lightning headed straight for his chest. Nightwing wasn't going to get there in time, there was no way. He wasn't fast enough. The lightning had grazed his arm, but it had still been enough to send him flying twenty feet away. The bone in his upper arm was probably fractured. There was no way anyone would survive a direct hit, especially not tiny thirteen year old Jason, who hadn't even been Robin for a year. Jason was going to die, and it was all Dick's fault._

 _He would never be able to face Batman ever again._

 _He would never be able to face Bruce ever again._

" _Gotcha, kid!" One second Robin was there, the next he was kneeling by Dick, face ashen and lips trembling. Wally pushed up his goggles and gave them both a strained, but pumped smile. Dick had never before been so grateful for his speedy best friend. He could kiss Wally; but there was no time. Klarion screamed as Superboy managed to get close enough to land a solid hit. "Aqualad, Zatanna, and I are going to distract Klarion while Artemis and M'gann go after the cat. Get Robin out of here and call for backup. We're going to need Doctor Fate on this one."_

" _No!" Jason clutched Dick's arm, his eyes pleading. "If you call the League, Batman's gonna know I came on this mission after he told me no!"_

 _Dick grabbed Jason's hand holding his arm and gave him his best reassuring smile. "It's okay, Little Wing, I'm the one who snuck you out after he told both of us no." Sure, he was friggin pissed at Bruce and Bruce was going to be absolutely fucking livid, but they needed backup, desperately. He had almost watched Jason_ die _. His relationship with Bruce was already strained to the point of snapping anyway, it wouldn't matter if Batman threw him out, again, as long as nobody died tonight. "I'll take the full brunt of his fury, let's just get you somewhere safe, okay?"_

 _Jason's cheeks puffed up and his eyes blazed with frustration. "I can still fight!"_

" _Not on that ankle, you can't." Dick chided._

 _Wally rolled his eyes. "Neither of you are in any condition to fight. Don't think I didn't see that impromptu makeout sesh you had with the tree, Dick. Get out and call for backup- oh, shit! Artemis!"_

"Wakey wakey, tighty-nighty," Klarion crooned nasally and sat down on his chest. The air should have rushed out of his lungs and he should feel like his ribs were squishing his organs, but he felt nothing. "Oh, you are awake! You just can't move or talk or do _anything_ really, except listen to little ole me. How exciting this must be for you!"

Dick imagined spitting a large wad of saliva right into Klarion's gaping maw. It was a great mental picture, but he couldn't even twitch his fingers. He gave him a Batman-level glare instead, or at least, he hoped he did.

Klarion tisked and waved his finger in the air. "You have been a very naughty boy, Nightwing, and I'm going to have to punish you." His face, which had been light and innocent contorted into something vile and dark. "Do you remember what you did?"

 _Jason was safely hiding at the rendezvous point where the Justice League would arrive and Dick felt like he could breathe again. Batman had been right, just like always. It had been too soon to take Jason into the field. Dick might have been working with the team when he was thirteen, but he had also had years of experience under his belt. Jason still had problems aiming with a batarang. He would get there, Dick had no doubt, but he needed more training._

 _He should have listened to Bruce, but he had just been so fucking angry. He had dragged Jason into his teenage rebellion and had almost gotten him killed. In the distance, he could see the storm of red energy. He had to get back and help hold Klarion off until Doctor Fate could get there and seal him away once more. The witch boy was more powerful than ever now, and that was his fault too. Dick took a running step forward and_

 _And it was like a bullet to his spine. A strangled noise escaped his mouth as his knees buckled and he crashed to the ground. Oh god, oh god, oh god, it hurt. He was lying, completely exposed, in an open field as the noise of the battle drew closer. He needed to move, now, but even breathing sent streaks of pure pain throughout his entire body. A whimper tore through his chest as he reached into his belt and drew out a batarang._

 _Moving with a possible back injury always made things a thousand times worse. Bruce was going to kill him. That is, if he didn't die here._

 _His lungs forgot how to work as there was a crash nearby, and an outraged roar sounded practically on top of him._

Klarion pressed his face so close Dick could feel the heat of the gray, decaying skin. "I see you do remember. You killed my precious Teekl, stabbed him right through the eye with that sharp toy of yours."

It was self-defense, Dick wanted to protest. He had moved just as the enormous and ferocious monster of a cat tried to sink its teeth through his belly. He hadn't meant to kill it, honestly, but better it than him.

"Now," Klarion continued. "I can't exist in your earthly plane if I don't have something there to anchor me, I'm sure you know, you rude and naughty boy. You recall this ring, right?" Klarion held up his hand to show off a plain silver band. "The one you and your friends tried so hard to keep me from getting? It makes me more powerful than I have ever been, and I was able to cast one last spell even as you spitefully sent me back here. I was so, _so_ angry at you, tighty-nighty. It wasn't fair! I was having so much fun and then you killed Teekl! _My_ Teekl! I loved him! Well," He paused and his face morphed back into contemplative. "We did enjoy the same things, like torture and chaos, but _love_ is such an icky word."

Klarion leaned back and tapped Dick on the nose. "With the last bit of strength I had, I cast a spell on you. A nasty one too. Nuh-uh, I didn't kill you if that's what you're thinking. I erased you."

He licked his lips and smiled so sweetly, Dick would have thought he was politely asking for more food if there wasn't a crazed look in his eyes. "In that earthly plane you threw me out of, you no longer exist. Nightwing didn't die, he was never born."

* * *

The tension was thick as Batman strode into the meeting room in Mount Justice. Robin sunk low into his seat as his mentor's eyes passed over him and shamed welled up in his gut. His first real mission with the team had gone straight to hell because he goofed up and let Klarion get the ring. Even the members of the Justice League looked antsy. Flash, Red Tornado, and Doctor Fate had been the ones to answer their cry to help, but the battle had been over before they had even arrived.

Jason's ankle still throbbed from when he tripped over a tree root. It wasn't broken, but mostly likely sprained. Alfred was going to rip him a new one once Batman had dragged him back to the cave by his ear. Batman wouldn't have tripped over a stupid tree root. He wanted to hide his injury from his mentor as long as possible, but he knew that they would eventually find out. There was this one time on patrol where a goon got a lucky shot in and landed a pretty good punch. Jason had tried to hide just how much his ribs ached, but Alfred had caught him trying to apply bruise ointment himself and had given him a stern lecture. It was always better, Alfred had informed him, to report injuries right away. What if the bruising on his chest was actually an injury much deeper than surface damage? But... But what if Batman found out Jason had hurt himself on a fucking root and decided that he wasn't worthy? Not qualified enough to be Robin?

He needed to be Robin, it was the best thing that has ever happened to him. Bruce had tried to assure him that his place in the Wayne household was permanent - he had even adopted Jason for god's sake. Even so, Jason couldn't shake the feeling that one day Bruce would come to his senses and see Jason for who he really was; a child trying to be something he wasn't, trying to fill shoes that were too big for him.

At least his twisted ankle wasn't the worse injury the team had obtained. Artemis sat in the back, leaning on Wally while he finished fitting her arm into a temporary cast. Broken arms aside, things could have turned out much worse. For a split second, Jason heard the crack of powerful energy turning towards him as a red glow filled his vision. His breath caught in this throat and he pushed the panic aside. At that moment, Jason had been so sure that he was about to die. The speedster may be annoying, but he did have him to thank for saving his life.

The Dark Knight turned to Aqualad and growled, "Mission report."

Kaldur stood, his back straight and his face expressionless. "Approximately 20 hours ago one of our sources received a tip that a ring possibly containing magical elements was discovered in a sunken shipwreck. There were rumours that certain members of the light were interested in obtaining the ring, so we. . . _I,_ decided to have the team shadow the transport vehicle."

"Without League permission." Batman cut in with a dour frown.

Kaldur responded with a frown of his own. "We have done a few missions now without League permission. Most of us are adults now."

" _Most_ are adults. What the hell were you thinking bringing a thirteen year old? _My_ sidekick, without _my_ permission."

One thing Robin really admired about the older boy was his ability to remain calm even under extreme stress. He shoved the rage he felt as being referred to as _sidekick_ and _kid_ down. Kaldur's fingers twitched, but that was the only reaction to Batman's harsh tone. Jason wanted to stand up and defend him, but wisely kept his mouth shut. He knew that as soon as they got to the cave he was probably grounded for life. There was no need to have his cookie privileges revoked on top of that.

"We brought Robin along to..." Aqualad's voice started out strong and confident, but faded out suddenly as a look of confusion overtook him. "...to hack into the security feeds..."

The other day Jason had been telling a story to Alfred, and there was this particular word he wanted to use to describe the situation, but for the life of him he just couldn't remember what it was. It had been on the tip of his tongue, right there, but no matter how hard he searched he couldn't find the right word. He was getting the same feeling now; there was something wrong here, and he could feel his mind stretching to figure out what, but he drew a blank. There was something wrong... so wrong...

"If you wanted a hacker, you should have brought in Batgirl." Batman rebutted. Jason saw his lips turn downward ever so slightly, like he too had a strange feeling about this whole thing but couldn't quite put his finger on it. "Robin is learning, but he is not at a mission-ready level."  
"No," Kaldur shook his head, his eyebrows drawn together pensively. "I called in a hacker, but I do not think it was Robin. We have never had somebody so young on the team, and I do not believe that I would have so recklessly put him in danger if there was not somebody close to watch him."

"The youngest we let join was Wally," Flash injected. "Even then I was nervous about sending him on missions. Kaldur is right; it doesn't sound like him to bring Robin on a mission without your permission, Batman."

Wally sputtered in protest. "I was almost 16 when I joined! Conner wasn't even three months old! He was the youngest."

Everyone in the room ignored Kid Flash's mutterings of "letting a damn baby onto the team and then calling _me_ the youngest. Hell, Zatanna was younger than me when she joined,".

"The truck was attacked," Kaldur continued. "We fought, but Klarion ended up with the ring,"

Again, Jason felt himself sink with shame. It had been his job to guard while the others fought of the witch boy, but he had taken his eyes off the ring for three seconds. Just enough time for that stupid cat to snatch it and run away.

"We tried to retreat into the woods to regroup, but Klarion put on the ring and his power increased tenfold. He smoked us out and I sent Robin away to call for League assistance. We were holding our own but losing ground when suddenly he just disappeared."

"M'gann and I were tracking his cat," Artemis offered. "It drew us away from the main battle, but it vanished almost the same time Klarion did."

"Their plan was adequate," Red Tornado spoke up. "They contacted the League when necessary. Their only failures were losing the objective and involving your protege. Nothing went so horribly wrong that deemed it important enough to hold a group meeting. Individual assessments to discuss personal mistakes would have been sufficient for this mission."

Well, Jason was tempted to input, he had almost died. He was never gonna tell Batman that though, the old man might never let him patrol again.

The grinding of Batman's teeth was audible. RT did bring up some valid points. Why were they having a group meeting anyway? They hadn't even discussed it; the whole team had filed into the conference room and waited for Batman as if somebody had been seriously injured during their venture. "If you thought a big hitter like Klarion was going to be targeting your objective, why did you not inform the League before you left?"

"I _didn't_ know that Klarion would be targeting the ring." Kaldur objected. "We didn't even know for sure that the ring was magical. Our source only said that somebody from the Light might be looking to steal it. Our mission was supposed to be recon only, just like always."

Doctor Fate shifted his stance from rigid attention to curious, drawing the gaze of everyone in the room. "Zatanna," He called out. The magician girl started, glancing up for a moment before looking away again. Jason didn't know the whole story, but he knew that the raven haired girl had a rough relationship with Doctor Fate. "I can sense that there is something bothering you."

Zatanna's face went stormy for a few seconds and she bit her lip. M'gann placed a calming hand on her shoulder and she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. "Right before Klarion vanished, he said something. It sounded like a spell, but not one that I've ever heard before. I can't stop thinking about it. I... I think he did something, but I don't know what."

"You're right. Ever since we've gotten back, I've had this weird feeling," Superboy piped up, uncrossing his arms and staring at the wall with intense focus. "Like that feeling you get whenever you walk into a room and then suddenly can't remember why you went there in the first place."

"Or when you forget a word," Jason added, glad somebody else had voiced the same doubts he was feeling.

There was a chorus of agreeing murmurs. Doctor Fate turned to M'gann. "Show me what she saw."

M'gann looked at Zatanna, asking for her approval with her eyes. Zatanna nodded, and M'gann touched her lightly on the forehead. She didn't project the image to everyone else in the room, which Jason thought was plain unfair. He hadn't been there for the final moments of the fight. A minute crawled by in silence before Doctor Fate broke it with an uncharacteristic gasp.

"I am acquainted with the last spell the lord of chaos cast," His voice was grim. "It is called the Living Ghost; it is old, powerful, and forbidden. It is why the witch boy vanished, it takes more power than one usually possesses. He will not have enough energy to materialize in our world for quite some time."

It might have been the ominous words, or the way he said it, but Jason swore that the temperature in the room dropped a few degrees. He had no idea what the hell they were talking about, but he knew it wasn't good. Batman had stiffened just the tiniest bit, giving away that he too was surprised.

The blood left Zatanna's face and her lips popped open in shock. "Living Ghost?"

"What does the Living Ghost do?" Wally asked, his voice small and uncertain.

Doctor Fate did not answer right away. It was hard to tell what was going on in the Lord of Fate and Order's mind behind that golden helmet. "The spell was created by the druids of lore, thousands of years ago, as a way to punish a person for trespassing on their lands. It is meant to corrupt people by breaking their minds and turning them into monsters. It is indeed one of the cruellest things that can be done to a human being.

"The spell erases people from existence, in a way. To us, it is af if they were never born. We have lost all memories of the person, and most indicators that they have ever lived have simply disappeared. The victim of the spell is bound to this earthly plane, but they are like a ghost. We can neither see them or hear them. The conduit for this spell is the victim themselves, so there is no object we can destroy to bring them back. There are only two ways to break this spell, one we can control and one we can't. It is impossible to completely erase somebody from existence; most physical proof of their existence has vanished but there will be a remnant, something that the victim had a strong emotional bond to or something that is irrefutable evidence that they lived. If we can find that remnant, we will remember who we have forgotten and break the spell."

"We have forgotten somebody?" M'gann whispered. "All of us? There was somebody else there that Klarion made us forget? A friend?"

"That's impossible," Jason's disbelief made his tongue loose. There was just no way that they would have forgotten somebody! He would have remembered, surely. The thought settled in his stomach like bad milk.

Impassive eyes slid to Jason and he withered from the look behind the helmet. "That is the spell that Klarion cast. There is no doubt that somebody has been erased."

"It does make sense," Red Tornado had to agree.

"Even if it is a little unsettling." Conner mused, his eyes wandering around the room. Jason followed his line of sight, Batman, Flash, Red Tornado, Zatanna, Artemis, Wally, M'gann, Kaldur, Doctor Fate. Somebody was missing, but who? Who had they forgotten?

"I did call a hacker to assist," Kaldur'ahm repeated. "But it wasn't Robin or Batgirl. I do not know who."

Flash cleared his throat. "You said that there is another way to break the spell, something that we couldn't do."

Doctor Fate nodded. "It is something that only the victim of the spell can do. They are still here, though they are little more than an apparition. The Living Ghost tortures a person's mind, until they are willing to do absolutely anything to free themselves of the spell. Imagine watching your loved ones continuing on with their daily lives, completely unaware of your existence. Imagine being forgotten, being the only one who knows that you have ever lived. This spell, after it was stolen from the druids, was used by only the most corrupt and evil servants of chaos. They targeted good men and women, those who seemed pure and incorruptible. The only other way to break the spell is for the victim to spill the blood on an innocent.

"It is either kill or vanish for an eternity."

* * *

From the doorway of the conference room where he had been silently watching the whole time, Dick moaned. One moment he had been petrified underneath Klarion's weight, the next he was roaming around the mountain. He had found the gathering soon enough, and spent ten horrific minutes doing anything he could to grab their attentions. He had been screaming when Batman whisked into the room and walked right _through_ him. It was the absence of feeling that was the strangest. He moved, he walked and ran, but he still felt like he was floating. A strong wind was probably enough to blast him to the moon.

He had spent most of their meeting walking through people and pulling faces at Wally and his gross displays of public affection. Until Doctor Fate had delivered the worst possible news Dick could have imagined. And trust him, his mind had been reeling through all possible scenarios.

"So I'm a ghost now, huh?" He asked the mute room. Everyone had blank and slightly sick expressions on their faces as they took in the information. "At least I'm not dead. But seriously, bedside manners much? You could have delivered that with just a li'l more tact. I'm right here you know."

There was no fucking way he was ever going to kill somebody.

"So the only option is to find the remnant." Batman ground out.

Dick snorted. "Good luck with that, Bruce. You and I haven't had much emotional connection in the last year. Whatever you're looking for is probably here in the cave, or Wally's." Maybe. What was something that he had strong emotional ties to? Or something that proved he existed? A birth certificate maybe? Dick had no idea what happened to the physical copy of his birth certificate; it disappeared some time during the move from a circus trailer to Bruce's mansion.

Anything of real value to him had been taken out of his room in the manor and been his traveling buddy as he hopped around avoiding Bruce. His bags had been packed and he had been gone in what felt like minutes after he had been fired as Robin. First Dick spent a couple of weeks at Wally's apartment. Living with his two best friends, who were also dating, turned out to be more awkward than he had expected going in. (There were certain things he wished he could bleach from his memory.) Then he had gone to Metropolis and crashed at Clark's place. That's where he had gotten it into his mind to start solo and picked the name Nightwing for himself.

A few more weeks after that and a couple of nights of staring at the night sky towards Gotham, his heart heavy with sorrow, Dick decided to be the bigger person. Bruce's anger had surely blown over by now and he really missed his home, his surrogate grandfather, and the man he had considered to be his father for many years. He caught a cab back to Gotham and returned to the manor with an apology on his lips.

Until the door had been answered by a scowling, raven haired boy.

"Just who have we forgotten?" Barry asked. "Was it one of the League? One of our kids? A civie?"

"My data reads that every hero is accounted for." Red Tornado offered. "Though I suppose that is to be expected."

"That is not all," Doctor Fate spoke once again.

"Really? Of course there is more to this thing," Wally grumbled.

Dick had to agree with him. "As if this could get any worse." Oh darn it, he should have held his tongue. There were some things that should not be spoken aloud. Here he was, standing in the midst of his friends and not a single soul could hear or see him. Or, you know, even remember who he was.

"A soul cannot exist in the plane without something tying it down for very long. If we do not remember who we have lost and they fail to kill to regain their freedom," He paused and suddenly Dick did not want him to finish that sentence. "They will cease to exist. We have about three weeks before they are lost forever."

Three...

Three weeks.

Three weeks of shadowing his friends and family, begging to unhearing ears for them to remember him. For _anyone_ to remember him.

"Wow, okay," Artemis pulled her arm away from Wally's massaging fingers. "So how do we find this remnant? Is there some sort of spell or. . .?"

Doctor Fate shook his head and Dick rolled his eyes. Of course, that would be too fucking easy. Was it too much to ask for the universe to give him a break? Just a small one? Just a little stroke of luck? "The remnant technically does not exist until it is seen. It hovers on the brink of existence and no magic may find it."

"Who is the most likely person to have lost somebody?" Kaldur asked. "So we know where to narrow down our search?"

M'gann cleared her throat. "I, I think Batman, probably."

The Dark Knight did not move, or give any indication of his hostility, but the martian still squirmed uncomfortably.

Dick raised his head and took a deep breath in. "M'gann you're a beautiful person and I love you." He breathed out in relief.

"Think about it," She continued. "It doesn't make sense for Kaldur to bring Robin on this mission. We know that you haven't cleared him yet for unmonitored missions, and he isn't ready to start hacking yet," She ignored Jason's frustrated growl and looked directly at Batman. "What if there was another person who worked with you and Robin and _they_ were the one Kaldur called? What if they were the one who brought Robin along?"

Praise the good lord Jesus, Dick wanted to walk over to her and give her a hug.

"No," The word was spoken firmly, without a shadow of a doubt. Batman stared down the room, as the gathered heroes nodded along to Miss Martian's logic. Dick felt something inside him break at Bruce's unwavering certainty. "Robin is my only partner."

And his only son.

Dick knew it was true, but it still hurt to hear.

* * *

(A/N) - Here I am again with another angsty story! I know it's not one of the ones I promised lol, but it should be good! I've had this idea for _months_ now and I'm excited to finally put it all together. I'm aiming for about 10 chapters, with one chap posted a week, but we'll have to see how that goes. I have a writing schedule all planned out, but sorry folks my school schedule takes priority over fanfiction :p

This fic was inspired by season 6 of Teen Wolf (I only really watch that show for dylan o'brien's hair, but whatev), and the song _Doubt_ by Twenty-One Pilots.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two days ago**

Alfred Pennyworth ducked under a flying tennis ball without blinking, the tray in his hands not shaking even once. A sheepish looking thirteen year old skidded to a halt at his toes, giving him a wide grin. "Master Jason," Alfred said drearily. "In a good mood, I see. Please tell, has anything been set aflame?"

"Good morning, Alf." Jason politely dodged the question. "Is that Bruce's breakfast?"

"Indeed it is, young sir."

Forgetting about the tennis ball he had been chasing after, Jason held out his hands. "Can I take it to him?"  
A stunningly clear image of Jason guiltily standing over a mess in the hallway flashed in his mind, but Alfred nonetheless placed the tray of food in the boy's hands. If that were to transpire, he would clean it up like always. The Pennyworth motto was to clean up the Wayne family's messes - both figurative and literal. "Do be careful with that, if you would. Why are you so eager to see Master Bruce? The two of you were out rather late last night on patrol. I would've thought you've seen enough of him by now."

"Haven't you heard?" Jason asked, his eyes gleaming with excitement, the butler's sauciness completely going over his head. "Last night the papers went through!"

The boy wasn't talking about _those_ papers, surely. It was much too early in the legal procedure for that step. "...The papers, Master Jason?"

Jason looked up at him from under his lids, his lips pulled down in a frown. "The adoption papers, Alf, duh. I'm officially a member of the Wayne family." The way he said it clearly indicated to the butler that he was really happy about officially being Bruce's son.

His heart soared for the boy. It was what Jason truly needed; a family, to know that he belonged and that he was loved no matter what. Alfred remembered the scarred and battered child that had arrived at the manor a mere seven months ago. That child was quick to lash out and slow to smile, hasty to jump to conclusions and reluctant to open up and trust. He had improved and healed marvelously in his duration at the manor.

However, Alfred couldn't help but think of another dark haired boy who had fled the manor a mere eight months ago. A young boy who was once spilling over with cheer who, the last time Alfred saw him, was now walking around like his entire world had been shattered.

"That is wonderful news, Master Jason," Alfred smiled softly at the boy. "Now go take that to your father. He should be awake at any moment."

Jason grinned and skipped away, a bounce in his stride. It was relieving to see his surrogate son finally embracing the role of father. He was happy for Jason and proud of Bruce. Alfred only wished that Jason was not the first child Bruce had adopted.

His hands now empty and his mind restless with emotions and thoughts he would never say, Alfred bent down and picked up the neglected tennis ball. He would make sure it would find its way back outside where it belonged. Now he had dinner to place in the slow cooker and rooms to dust.

The morning hours slipped by as Alfred started his usual cleaning circuit. In the years he had worked while Martha and Thomas Wayne were still alive, his cleaning usually involved picking up childrens' toys. After their untimely deaths, Bruce had changed dramatically. No longer did he care about entertaining trinkets. Alfred's cleaning turned into dusting off items in untouched rooms, listening to the silence of halls that used to be filled with laughter and life. He never thought he would be missing tripping over building blocks.

Then Master Dick had wandered into his life and made himself at home. He had been everything that Master Bruce needed. A gentle, kind soul. A reminder that smiles could still be found after immense tragedy. Dick's cheer had been the medicine to heal parts of Bruce's crumbled soul, just like Bruce's fatherly hand had been the key to Jason's.

He loved Master Jason, he really did. Alfred wanted him in the manor and nowhere else, making messes in the hallways and preening under Bruce's praise. Things hadn't been the same since Master Dick's departure. He kept waiting to hear Dick's laugh ring through the kitchen or spot his socks left lying on the couch.

The doorbell rang, startling Alfred out of his thoughts. He placed his duster of the mantle he had been buffering and wound his way out of the second dining hall to the front entrance. They weren't expecting visitors, as far as he knew. All of their usual surprised guests came through the _other_ entrance. A quick look through the peephole made his stomach plummet with surprise, sadness, and pleasure.

"Master Dick," He greeted as he swung the door open. "What a lovely surprise. You did not have to wait to be invited in, you're welcome here anytime you wish. This is your home."

The sixteen year old in front of him looked physically good. From what Master Bruce had told him, Dick had spent the last seven months living at the mountain and training new recruits for the team. There was a distant look to his eyes, however, that Alfred did not like, and bags under his eyes. His shoulders were slouched as if he were trying to make himself smaller and disappear. His poor child; so much grief was held in that lithe frame.

Dick snorted, reminding the butler that Jason was not the only one who had changed the past few months. "Right, my home. That's why Bruce kicked me out and told me to never come back." Seeing the sorrow that overcame Alfred as soon as the words left his mouth, Dick quickly changed the topic. He and Bruce may have their differences, but Alfred had always been there for him. "Anyway, I'm not here for Bruce, I'm actually here for Jason. I promised the kid I would start teaching him how to use the R-cycle."

Roughly four months ago, Batman and Nightwing had called a hesitant truce. They shared information about their cases, though they did not patrol together. During this time, Dick had put forth more of an effort to get to know the newest member of the Wayne household. In Dick's own words it was because, "it's not the kid's fault that Bruce is a monumental asshole". Alfred had fervently hoped it would be the start of his boys mending broken fences and actually talking about their feelings instead of screaming hateful words. Alas, Bruce and Dick had yet to speak to each other, and conversations between Batman and Nightwing was like watching two wild feral dogs circle, waiting for the other one to strike.

A lump formed in the base of Alfred's throat. Oh no, of all the days Master Dick could have come back to the manor, today was probably the worst of all. When the news of Jason's recent adoption broke... It would seem to the teenager that he had been invited over so the fact that Bruce adopted Jason and not him could be rubbed in his face. He should tell Master Dick, before a careless comment started off a new chain of fireworks. But how?

Dick saw the hesitance of Alfred's face and completely misread it. His insides had been scooped out and burned ages ago, but the knowledge that at least Alfred still cared for him and wanted him around had held him together. The butler had yet to usher him inside and his eyes were downcast, as if he were searching for an excuse to send him on his way. If Alfred did not wish to see him any more, then maybe it was true; maybe he was a waste of space, a nobody who could be thrown away at the earliest convenience. A guinea pig that had been scrapped the moment a newer, better model had surfaced.

A practice son.

"Oh," Dick bit his lip, feeling small. Why did he even come here if he knew it would end in heartbreak? Because Jason had scowled when he stuttered out his request, but his big eyes couldn't hide his sincerity. "I actually have somewhere I need to be. Wally... I gotta go. Sorry, Alfred."

"Master Dick," Alfred realized a second too late what his hesitance had caused. There must be a way to fix this. Words were formulating on his tongue, but whatever apology he was going to utter was halted as Jason ducked under his arm and popped out onto the porch. He rolled onto his toes and gave a stunned Dick a bright smile.

"You came, Dick!" His jubilance at prior events outshone his usual prickly attitude. "Guess what?"

Alfred knew that whatever came out of the boy's mouth would ensue the catastrophe he had been trying to prevent.

"What is it, Jay?" Dick's eyes had soften upon his arrival.

Chest puffed out, Jason stood with his chin up high. "We're brothers now. Bruce adopted me."

Dick did not move for several seconds and Alfred found himself holding his breath. He finally turned to look at the butler, and if Alfred thought he looked shattered before, it was nothing compared to the absolutely betrayed expression on his face.

 **Present**

Dick had discovered a few things about his new predicament. One, he could walk through walls. That seemed pretty cool until he discovered he could also walk through the couch and the table and all the chairs. He had resigned himself to sitting on the floor, drumming his fingers along his jawline as his team members gathered around a large whiteboard that Wally seemingly pulled out of nowhere. M'gann shifted her stance and suddenly her foot was protruding from Dick's left thigh. He looked at it and raised an eyebrow. Yeah, he was never going to get used to that.

The second thing he learned was being ignored drove him absolutely bonkers. He liked to talk and quip and joke around; having all of his witty one liners go unheard was starting to put a tick in his eye. The third thing he found out was, unlike a 'real' ghost, he had absolutely no power over any solid object. Couldn't knock over mugs, flicker the lights, or suck Conner into the TV. What was the point of being a ghost if he didn't get the perks? His life was a shit show and he _deserved_ to give this mountain a proper haunting.

"So here's what we know," Kaldur was saying, "Our missing person was a member of this team. We are supposing that they had the abilities of a hacker-"

"And that they have some relationship to Batman," M'gann interjected. "I know what Batman said, but I mind-linked with Jason before they left and told him to be on the lookout for remnants wherever they live. He told me that he was on it."

Kaldur nodded his acceptance. "However, we have to consider all possibilities. We don't want to lose our missing person because we were so busy focusing on one thing that we overlooked everything else. Doctor Fate said that the best way to find the remnant is to continue with our day to day lives as we normally would. The most important thing to a person is often times something very common."

Zatanna growled. "I really wish there was a spell I could use. I tried after the Justice League left, but nothing, nada, zilch."

"Just so you guys know," Dick offered, "I've got nothing, nada, zilch too." Really, the remnant's true form was a complete mystery to him.

"I am unsure as to what the best course of action is," Kaldur admitted. "This is a very unique, unprecedented situation. Any thoughts or ideas would be much appreciated."

"You could go tell Batman to pull his head out of his ass." Dick piped up. It was a damn shame nobody heard that one.

The team stared at each other in fidgety silence and with a start Dick realized that they were communicating via mindlink. Okay, that was _sooooo_ not fair. Was this the kind of frustration the rest of the Justice League experienced when they saw the younger team shaking their hands and rolling their eyes, arguing without a single word being spoken? It kinda made him want to scream.

"Okay yeah," Wally shrugged and sighed out loud. "I'll contact Roy about being on the lookout, but it's your fault if he bites my head off."

"Still hasn't forgiven you for telling him he should take a break from searching for the 'real' Roy Harper?" M'gann winced in sympathy.

"Mmhmm."

Artemis hummed as well. "Basically told us to go fuck ourselves, but somehow he managed to make it more crude and offensive than that."

Dick hung his head low and examined his hands. They looked solid to him, but still slipped through Conner's leg when he tried to poke him. He didn't know what was worse; being forgotten or finding out that your whole life was a lie. He had searched, they had _all_ searched for the original Roy Harper. There were no clues. No leads. Nothing that suggested at all that the original was even still alive. Dick had tried to keep hope, for Roy, and he wanted to believe, really, but... The only one who still hung onto the belief that the source material was still alive was Roy, who clung to that hope like a drowning man to a lifesaver.

It was destroying him. They could all see it.

"I'll tell Karen and Mal," Conner gave M'gann's hand a squeeze and let go. "I have to meet up with them anyway to study for our university entrance exams."

"I have to go too," Zatanna's voice was quiet and she still looked shaken. Dick wanted to touch her shoulder and tell her everything would be alright. Even after all these years, Zee had the hardest time dealing with Doctor Fate. He had spent many nights listening to her cry, wondering if there was anything she could have done to save her father from Fate's grasp. She still believed it was her fault and clung onto that guilt almost as strongly as Roy to his quest. "I'll... I'll tell Raquel."

After the two of them had broken up after their very brief period of dating, the two of them had remained good friends. The end to their relationship had been consensual and not bitter in the slightest. Batgirl had started roaming the rooftops of Gotham, and Dick had started to realize that his feelings for his female red-headed best friend were not all platonic. Zatanna too had been feeling like she should date other people, and they didn't consider the end to their relationship as a 'break up', but more as the start of a new level of friendship.

Nobody had stopped researching ways to save Zatara from the helmet of Doctor Fate. Dick was nearing the point where he had spent more years living with Bruce than he had with his own parents, so he understood, in a way, what she was going through. It was not the same, however, as seeing the body of your father being controlled by another entity.

The two of them left, leaving only Kaldur, M'gann, Wally, and Artemis standing around the whiteboard in somber thought. Dick unfolded his legs and imagined he could feel the burn of stretching as he stuck them out and bent his torso. Being deprived of his sense of touch was... surreal. Everything was surreal. It felt like this was all a dream and that any second he would wake up in his room in the mountain, train with the team, and then go drag Jason away from the manor so he could hang with his baby brother.

"Oh," Artemis gasped suddenly. "Is Bats going to tell Barbara about this?"

"Probably not," Dick answered with a frown. "If he's still being an ass and refusing to even think that I am one of his partners, the chances are high he won't tell Babs."  
"I will inform Batgirl." Kaldur said. "Just to make sure that she knows. For now, I suggest that we all split up and search our own homes."

"Hold up," Wally countered. "I still think we should all search the mountain together first. Statistically, there's a high chance that the remnant is in a place we're all familiar with, and seeing as they were part of the team, it makes sense that it might be here. Just think about it, Dick."

Everyone in the room froze, but for completely different reasons. Artemis elbowed Wally in the ribs with the edge of her cast. "Wally!"

"Wallace," Kaldur's voice was disapproving and his eyes cold. "I know that we disagree, but there is no reason to be uncivil with me."

"I'm sorry," Wally stuttered, a startled look on his face. "I really didn't mean to say that, I have no idea why..."

His eyes were wide and he stood up, trying to grab Wally's shoulders and not even noticing when his hands vanished into his best friend's chest. "Wally," Dick breathed out. "You said my name. You must have some memory of me in there!" The conversation continued around him, but the words blended together in his mind. _Just think about it, Dick._ A typical end to one of their conversations, usually revolving around some sort of fanatical device Wally was thinking of building that Dick was sure would never work. Like the robot whose sole purpose was to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

" _Yeah, sure Wally, if you're willing to put in the effort."_

" _It's gonna work this time, I'm positive. I've worked out all the bugs and this design is going to be great. Just think about it, Dick."_

"Please. Please remember me, Wally," Dick pleaded. His best friend said something to Artemis and then laughed at M'gann's comment. "Listen to me, you said my name. You said my name!"

But Wally moved and Dick was left standing by himself, his arms outstretched, as if he was begging for a hug. There was no burning behind his eyes or wetness on his cheeks, but he felt like he was crying. His breath hitched and a sob wracked his chest. Oh god.

It had only been hours since Klarion cast the spell.

Panic made his arms curl around his stomach as he desperately tried to hold himself together. The past seven months of his life had been awful, in that deep-seated pain sort of way that made his very bones feel tired. Bruce had been his savior, the thing that had kept him from falling into darkness after the death of his parents. He had been given a home, a purpose, a sense of love even if the words had never been spoken outloud. After that horrible fight where Batman fired Robin and Dick had run away, Dick had felt lonely, but never alone. Both man and teenager had been too stubborn to take back the scathing words they had hurled at each other, and the rift between them had grown into a gaping chasm, but deep down Dick knew if he ever needed him, Bruce would be there.

He had his team he could fall back on, his friends who would always have his back. He had Alfred. And, after the initial shock and hurt, he had Jason too. When he had been five years old, he remembered begging his parents for a baby brother. He didn't understand at the time that there was no room in their little trailer for another body, and no money for another mouth. It didn't stop him from wishing for a sibling.

Would anything change if he was able to take back sneaking Jason into the mission? He had been in the cave, teaching Jason how to take apart the R-cycle, clean the pieces, and put the bike back together when he had received the summons from Kaldur. It was supposed to be an easy mission. Nothing was supposed to happen. Really, it had been a way to get the original team together to hang out while some of their members contemplated joining the Justice League. Then Rocket had to bail because her boyfriend had been in a minor accident and broke his leg.

Dick had seen the hopeful expression on Jason's face as he spoke with Kaldur about the open slot.

" _An easy mission?"_ Dick had asked. " _Recon only, observe and report?"_

" _Recon only. The chances of the ring possessing magical properties is highly unlikely. It is merely... a precaution."_

" _Would you mind if I brought Robin along?"_

The grin that had threatened to split Jason's face in two made Dick's sudden decision worthwhile. Unfortunately, at that moment Batman had strode into the cave and declared under no circumstances was Robin allowed to participate in the mission. He had played his part as the responsible, older one as Jason took the rejection like a slap to the face. After Batman had left the surly older teenager and the fuming young one, Dick had tapped Jason on the shoulder.

" _Suit up, Little Wing,_ " Dick had said. He remembered all too well how having his fire quenched by Batman's controlling fist felt like. Somewhere inside he knew that Bruce cared for them and feared for their safety, but he was unwilling to admit it until Bruce did it first. What was the point of having a protective father, if the man in question refused to acknowledge him as his _son_?

Son. God, he really was an idiot, wasn't he? An awful, terrible person. He had dragged Jason on the mission because he had been _jealous_. Jason Todd had been adopted by Bruce Wayne after seven month of living with him, a feat that Dick Grayson hadn't accomplished after seven years. He had been jealous, damnnit. Bringing Jason wasn't an act of Dick trying to be a better older brother, it had been a _fuck you_ to Bruce.

And look where it got him. Jason had been inches away from death. If Wally hadn't been there, the team and Batman would have been mourning the death of a fucking child. All because Dick Grayson was _jealous_. Being forgotten was a better alternative to that.

Perhaps he deserved this.

Most people would assume that his greatest fear was falling, but that wasn't true. Falling was a good thing, a necessity even, to fly. You couldn't fly unless you were willing to fall. But only if there was somebody out there to catch you, or a safety net to protect you from the unforgiving ground. It wasn't falling that had killed his parents. It was them, alone in the air, hands outstretched but nothing but empty space to grab their wrists. The acid had made the wires break at the worst possible moment. Logic told Dick that there was absolutely nothing he could have done to save his parents. In his nightmares, the crowd screamed at him that he should have done more.

After Bruce took him in and gave him another home, Dick had always been flying, not falling. Everytime he had dipped too far, there had been Bruce pulling him back up or the safety net of his team propelling him back into the sky.

Now...

Now everyone he loved and cared for didn't know he was there. Nobody could hear the little moans he let out as he sank back down to the floor. He had nobody. And it was all his fault too. Just another sucker punch from karma.

Keep it together, Grayson, he told himself. Maybe though, maybe after months of feeling bits of himself be torn out by others, maybe he was finally allowed to break.

God, he just wanted a break.

* * *

A loud "Hey, sis!" was the only warning M'gann got before something heavy dropped from the ceiling and landed on her shoulders. She grunted and stumbled forward. "Gah! Garfield! What have I told you about sneaking up on people?"

The green boy wrapped his legs around her waist in a piggyback style. "Uh, make sure you're out of reach when they try to kill you?"

M'gann groaned and Wally, who stood next to her, reached up for a high-five. "Dude, nice! I did even know you were up there! Getting better at sneaking around."

They had reached a compromise with Kaldur earlier. M'gann and Wally would search the cave while Kaldur and Artemis went home. Internally, M'gann had agreed with Wally's logic, though she had maintained a neutral buffer between the two. Kaldur hadn't been wrong when he said that this was an unconventional situation, and the martian was still uncertain as to how she felt. Her emotions were jumbled up and confusing

Her thoughts went to the person that they all had forgotten. Doctor Fate said that whoever they were, they were stuck in this plane like they were a ghost. Her skin prickled at the idea that there was somebody out there that she could neither see or hear or sense. Were they here now, watching them search the cave? What agony that would be. Cautiously, she swept her mind out around the entire mountain. She only sensed Garfield, Wally, and herself.

"Do not encourage him," M'gann shook her head.

Wally and Garfield exchanged looks and simultaneously shrugged. "Uh, Meg, being sneaky is a _good_ thing in our line of work."

It was true, so M'gann just huffed and shook her head once more. But the last thing they needed was a sneaky little boy that liked to vanish during missions without a word.

Beast Boy grinned, proudly showing off a gap between his teeth. "I've been working on that move for _ages_ now. I gotta show..." His face scrunched up into confusion. "I gotta go show somebody, the one who has been teaching me stealth tactics... Um, you know that feeling you get when you walk into a room and can't remember why you're there?"

M'gann and Wally sighed.

"So we can add stealthy onto the list." M'gann said grimly.

"And one of the team's trainers." The speedster agreed.

Garfield swung his head between them, raising his eyebrows at the martian and the meta human. He changed into a snake and slithered down his adopted sister's side. He morphed back into his usual form, fluffy monkey tail thumping against the floor in agitation. "Uh, what's going on?"

By the time that his surrogate older sister finished filling him in, the eleven year old's face had changed from confused to sorrowful. "I was so excited to show off my new move," Garfield rubbed his eyes, hoping he could smear the beads of moisture back into his body. "Because I really, really wanted to impress the person who was teaching me and I knew they would be proud."

Wally kneeled down beside him and ruffled his hair. "Hey, we're proud of you bud. We'll find this person, we _will_ remember them, okay?"

It had only been a little over three months since the death of Garfield's mom, a loss that all of them were still mourning. The poor boy was coping, but his mind was still fragile and M'gann hated to lay more stress on him.

M'gann nodded. "At least we know that we're missing somebody. If Zee hadn't been there, and Doctor Fate hadn't recognized the spell, we wouldn't even know we had forgotten somebody. We would feeling what we're feeling now, that something was wrong, but we wouldn't know _why._ Because we know, we have a fighting chance. We're not going to give up, Gar, we're going to find that person. But we're going to need your help."

Garfield sniffed and puffed up his chest. "What can I do?"

Smiling, M'gann ruffled his hair like Wally had earlier. The green fibers felt more like fur than hair, but considering his monkey-ish appearance, she wasn't too surprised. "For starters, Wally and I are searching the cave for anything that might bring back memories of that person. Wanna join?"

It felt like they scoured every inch of the mountain. From the kitchen to the bedrooms, the hanger, they left no stone unturned and no crevice unchecked. As Zatanna had said earlier. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. They somehow wandered their way back into the kitchen and without a word, M'gann started to pull out the ingredients to bake cookies. Baking was one of her stress responses, and as she thanked Beast Boy for handing her the eggs and began to stir the batter she wrestled with her emotions. Wally had pulled out the cooking sheets and was carefully wrapping them in tinfoil, but his face was downtrodden and his movements haggard. Garfeild's tail thumped against the tiled floor rhythmically.

"I don't think logic is going to solve this problem." Wally mused as he helped the martian dollop the dough into small round balls. The other two glanced up, urging him onward with raised eyebrows. "I know, I know. I'm supposed to be the 'logic solves all problems' guy, but there's this feeling in my gut. Thinking about it too hard is going to get us nowhere. We can't use our minds, we gotta trust our instincts. And my instincts are telling me that we're not the ones who are going to find this remnant."

Garfield whinned. "Ah man, instincts suck."

M'gann playfully swatted his shoulder, needing to bring some levity into the situation. "Okay _Beast_ Boy, are you sure you want to give up on _animal_ instincts?" She sobered and nodded in Wally's direction. "You're right. My powers rely heavily on emotions, and when we found out that we had all forgotten something-" she struggled to find words to describe the atmosphere that had been confusing her all day "-I could feel a. . . void, so to speak, in the room. Whoever we lost, though the spell made us forget that they even exist, left a mark on all of us. Subconsciously, we all can feel the absence of their presence. We're panicking, trying so hard to find this person because we all desperately want this void we're feeling to be filled."

Her mouth pressed into a hard line. "We're not going to be the ones to find the remnant, I'm almost certain. When I said that I thought Batman had the biggest emotional connection to our missing person, it wasn't really because of Kaldur bringing Jason on the mission. Out of all the people in that room, Batman's emotional void was the greatest. It felt like. . . it felt like he lost a limb, to be honest, and though he might try to deny it, I _know_ he's feeling lost right now.

"Whatever the remnant is, it's up to Batman to find it."

* * *

(A/N) You lucky ducks, I was going to put this up on Saturday, but it looks like I'm going to be out of town, so I'm going to post this chap now. I would really love to know your thoughts! Seriously, each comment clears my pores and waters my crops ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Warnings for some dark themes and thoughts of suicide in the second half of this chapter. If you're not comfortable reading that kind of thing, pm me and I'll send you a summary of the chapter!**

* * *

The rain drummed against the window pane, the spattering thumps providing calming background noise as the fire in the hearth cackled, warming his toes. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a warning to those still outside that the weather was only going to get worse. It was the perfect day to sit on the recliner in the study, a case file in hand and a mug of coffee within arms reach. He had always found comfort in sounds of nature, especially pouring rain and the rolling boom of thunder. It relaxed him ever since he was a small boy, reassured him in the dark nights after his parents were killed.

So why was it, Bruce wondered as his eyes slid to the window and lightning flashed, illuminating the room, that he could not find peace? His limbs felt restless and there was this unsettling feeling in his gut that made him want to get up and do _something_. He counted the seconds from when he saw lightning split the sky until he heard the answering thunder. _Five seconds_. Reaching down, Bruce picked up his coffee and took a sip, barely tasting the strong brew that Alfred was infamous for. The file on his lap had been barely looked at and nearly forgotten.

He did like rainy days, but not this one. He had deemed it too dangerous to drive to the office today, choosing instead to work from home. Unfortunately, the lull in his day had given him time to think, a rare opportunity that he had been pushing away. He didn't want to think, didn't want to reflect on how ever since a couple of days ago, everything felt _wrong_.

He turned back to his file and his eyes rested on the first word of the document but did not move further. It detailed the recent finances of several major criminals residing in Gotham, and he was supposed to be analysing for any discrepancies. Gotham had been too quiet as of late. It had been three whole months since one of the major players broke out of Arkham and even the Joker had calmed down in his cell. There had been no major shootings and even small time murders had trickled down to a number that the police could handle on their own.

It made Bruce even more paranoid than usual and so on edge that Alfred had threatened to slip sedatives into his food. His gut told him that something big was brewing and he had thrown himself head first into diverting the storm before it ravaged his city. That was, until a few days ago when Flash had called him and told him to pick up his recently adopted son from the mountain. The moment he had swept into the room, it felt like a bucket of ice had lodged itself in his stomach and ever since it had refused to melt.

So he should really be working on figuring out _who_ was planning something and _what_ they were planning, but for the first time in his life he couldn't separate himself from his problems and focus on his mission.

" _I, I think Batman, probably."_

With a growl, Bruce snapped the file closed and stood up. The rain had increased to a furious tempo in the last five minutes and now battered his window with a vengeance. He could hardly see outside, it was coming down like a sheet. For a moment he entertained the thought that literal storm screaming outside was a forewarning for the figurative one he feared was coming, but brushed the idea aside. The difference between the two was while he couldn't change the weather, he sure as hell could stop whatever torment he anticipated.

Bruce picked up his mug, still half full with luke-warm coffee, to deliver back to the kitchen and spotted the latest novel Jason was reading on the floor. He bent down and picked it up, appreciating how the worn cover felt under his fingers. Interesting, the pages and shell of _Treasure Island_ spoke of being well loved, but as far as he was aware it was Jason's first time reading the book and he had no memories of skimming the pages in his youth. Perhaps it was a favorite of Alfred's. Tucking the book under his arm, Bruce abandoned his study, intent on bringing it back to the boy as a peace offering.

To the surprise of absolutely no one, Jason hadn't taken his punishment for sneaking out onto the team's mission very well. He had yelled and thrown a fit when Bruce had grounded him for five days, band him from patrol for two months, and Alfred had confined him to bed rest for at least a week to let his ankle heal. At least the boy had told him about his injury right away instead of trying to hide it from the two adults of the house. Bruce had assured him that he wasn't incompetent for tripping over a tree root and promised that he would teach Jason more techniques for keeping track of his surroundings while in battle.

Of all the opponents they could have run into, Bruce thought as he entered the kitchen, it just had to be Klarion. The witch-boy was labeled as an international threat and even Batman balked at taking him on without backup. As chaos personified, Klarion wasn't satisfied with precise, professional work; no the demon liked to _play_ and leave messes wherever he roamed. It made him volatile and dangerous, like the Joker with a penchant for sorcery. The thought of Jason, his partner and son, so close to the temperamental and powerful threat made his throat close off and the ice in his gut turn to lead.

If Klarion ever got his hands onto Jason, he would break the boy. If something ever happened to his son, it would break Bruce. He would never let that happen.

" _I, I think Batman, probably."_

No. He would _never_ let that happen. He _couldn't._

Surprisingly, his butler was not in the kitchen, though dishes waiting to be washed in the sink indicated that Alfred was there recently. Bruce emptied out his mug and placed it with the other dishes. The sound of television could be heard as he neared the living room. Jason didn't look up as Bruce entered, though from the minute tension that rose in his shoulders, he was keenly aware of his presence. Alfred did greet Bruce with a small nod, however, as he finished placing small sandwiches on the side table within Jason's reach. Some sort of cartoon was playing and Bruce spared it a quick glance before focusing his attention on the boy.

Jason eyebrows were knitted together sullenly as he studiously ignored Bruce. There was light bruising just under his cheek bone and a split on his lip, but those and the ankle were the only wounds he had received in the fight with Klarion. Bruce was relieved that that was the only outcome, and proud that his protege held his own. Did he ever tell Jason that? Thinking back, he had only spared a minute for Alfred to check up on the boy before he had berated him for sneaking off.

Sighing, Bruce held out the book for Jason to take. He had no experience with children before taking Jason in. "Here, you left this up in my study."

Jason snatched it away without looking away from the television.

"Master Jason," Alfred clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

With a sigh that matched the one Bruce let out, Jason dragged his gaze away from the show to glare at Bruce. "Thank you." Each word was ground out like it was painful to utter. Bruce said nothing, lost for words, as he took a seat on the other end of the couch. Jason's foot was spread out in front of him, his ankle elevated for proper healing.

Time ticked away in stiff silence; it was probably only a few minutes but it stretched out for what felt like an eternity. Thunder rumbled, a boom that was clearly heard even through the thick walls of the old house. Bruce saw Jason stiffen and curl into himself. Was Jason afraid of thunder? That seemed out of character for his brave bravado, but as another rumble sounded and his son flinched. The small action reminded Bruce that there was still so much he needed to learn about his boy.

"Are you aware of where the emergency flashlights and candles are, Master Jason?" Alfred directed his question at the boy instead of the master of the house. Alfred's manner had been cold to him as of late, though Bruce had no idea why. It started before his trip to the mountain though where his first sense of how _wrong_ the world felt, ruling out Klarion's spell. "There is a high chance that all of this lightning will knock out the power, and it's important you know where the emergency supplies are in case it goes dark."

"In the hall closet and in the bottom drawer in the kitchen." Jason listed off monotoned. Thunder rent through the air again, louder than the last time and Jason squeaked, his eyes wide. Immediately his cheeks flushed and he snuck a look at Bruce from under his eyelashes, as if checking to make sure the older man hadn't heard. He couldn't do this anymore, and before he could change his mind, Bruce scooted right next to his son and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, tugging him in close.

A protest rose to Jason's lips but quickly died as thunder sounded once more. He pressed his face into the hard muscle of his father's chest and took a deep breath in, trying to calm his racing heart. "I'm still mad at you," He muttered into Bruce's shirt.

"I know," Bruce hummed, rolling his eyes at Alfred's small smirk. His butler's smile broadened, and he hid his pleasure at watching his surrogate son cuddle with his adopted child behind his hand. "...I'm proud of you, Jason."

"Huh?"

Bruce looked down into Jason's blue-green eyes and inwardly frowned at the stunned expression. No child should ever be shocked to hear praise. He _needed_ to do a better job at complementing instead of just correcting. "I talked to Aqualad and several others. They said that you did well in the fight with Klarion. I'm still disappointed that you disobeyed me, but I'm proud that you held your own. Your fighting has greatly improved."

A small voice in the back of his mind that he had been ignoring for the past couple of days wondered why he was so familiar with the team. He called Aqualad Kaldur when he had contacted the team leader, as if they were acquainted in more ways than the Justice League. He remembered working with the team in the early stages of their development, something that struck him as odd. As a rule, he didn't invest his time into something that he didn't have a personal interest in. Jason had been on a grand total of three missions (four if he counted the unauthorized one) all within the last four months. Batman should not have been assigning missions to the team three years ago, yet he clearly recalled feeling proud as the group of young heroes continuously uncovered and foiled the plans of the Light.

(He also vividly remembered banning Wally West from spending the night after waking up to find his entire pantry had been cleared out. Why Kid Flash had visited his manor as a civilian was a question that made Bruce increasingly uncomfortable. Kid Flash shouldn't even know the true identity of the Batman, let alone be invited into his home.)

Jason's face perked up at his words and he smiled slightly. He let his head fall back onto Bruce's chest and watched the show with half closed eyes. His ankle throbbed, but he was averse to asking for more pain pills. "Wait," A thought crossed his mind and he looked up again. "Did you ask them about the other thing? Are we closer to finding out who we forgot?"

Bruce cleared his throat awkwardly as Alfred's demeanor perked with interest. "No, I did not ask."

"'Who we've forgotten', Master Wayne?" Alfred repeated tersely.

"Didn't Bruce tell ya?" Jason shrugged himself away from Bruce's side so he could look at Alfred intently. Hearing a negative response, he launched into a retelling of the fight with Klarion and the aftermath as Bruce grew increasingly agitated. At the end of the story, the butler's eyebrows had risen to a shocking height.

"Oh my, that is distressing news. It certainly explains things, however." Alfred did not hide the vexed look he sent Bruce's way.

"Mmhm," The boy agreed. "That's not the worse part though. M'gann thinks that whoever we lost was partners with _Batman._ She says that's probably why I was brought onto the mission, cause whoever we forgot was the one who brought me. Kaldur has no memory of assigning me to the mission, and I can't remember why I went, so it makes sense."

The conversation had stepped into territory Bruce did not want to explore. "While it is a possibility," Bruce's voice dropped to a near-growl. "There is no hard evidence suggesting that it is true. We must keep our minds open to other prospects"

He knew the man who raised him well enough to know that there was something on Alfred's mind, but the older gentleman did not divulge. Bruce had a feeling that there was a lecture coming later. The downward turn to his lips and the rigid way he moved to shut the door on the opposite side of the room certainly suggested so.

Jason did not clue into the finality of Bruce's statement, or he just didn't care because he continued to complain. "I would be going through the house trying to find the remnant if _somebody_ would let me get up. Come on, Alf, let me get on crutches or something!"

"You can start your search after your ankle has healed, young sir, and not a moment before."

"But that will take a week, and then I'll only have _two_ weeks to look!"

With every word that came out of Jason's mouth, Bruce felt the hole he had dug himself into in Alfred's eyes deepened. There was a reason he didn't say anything to him (though he really should have known that Jason would spill). "I did not realize that there was a time limit to this spell." Alfred's perturbed look darkened.

"Oh yeah, I guess I didn't mention that. Doctor Fate said that a person can only exist in that plane of non-existence or whatever for about three weeks before poof! They vanish forever."

"Truly a cruel fate indeed. Rest assured, Master Jason, I will search the manor for this remnant you spoke of," Bruce had looked away, but he could feel the heat of Alfred's stare boring into his temple. "Even if Master Wayne will not."

It thundered again, sounding like the storm was directly overhead. Bruce felt a small face being pressed into his side once more, and his arm curled tighter around his child. He would protect him from the fear of thunder, and anything else life threw his way.

Alfred slipped out of the room, leaving the two other occupants to sit in contemplative silence. Fifteen minutes passed as the two of them pretended to watch the television. The characters were fighting a large dragon, and he felt himself frowning at obviously fake martial arts stunts. That punch would have been ineffective in a real fight - probably would have damaged his arm more than his opponent. He shook his head, positive that someone somewhere was making fun of him for analyzing fighting technique in a children's cartoon. Barbara, for one, would never pass up the opportunity to insult him. It wasn't long before Bruce felt the slight tension in Jason's body slip away and his breathing even out. He wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, Bruce staring glassy-eyed at the screen as Jason napped, but it felt like hours had gone by before Alfred was back in the room to clear away the tray of half-eaten food.

Bruce blinked and turned off the television. "Is it still storming outside?" He asked his butler in a low voice, so he wouldn't wake the child.

"Indeed it is, sir." Alfred's voice was crisp, like shards of glass. It made Bruce's insides squirm like he was a child being reprimanded. "Though the worst has passed us. Is Batman planning on going out tonight?" The words were neutral enough, but the glare Alfred was giving him was anything but.

"Not tonight," Bruce decided after a moment, as if he had any choice in the matter. Who knows what Alfred would have done to him if he had chose differently. "Not even the most hardened criminal would want to venture out into flooded streets." Batman certainly did not, after all.

"A wise choice, sir."

Bruce sighed. "Whatever you want to say, Alfred, just go ahead and say it."

"Why mince words when they will only go in one ear and out the other, Master Wayne?" Alfred said stiffly. Bruce turned his head to look behind the couch at the man who had raised him, his eyes widening in shook.

"Excuse me?" He sputtered, unable to stop the words from spilling out.

"Lower your voice right now, young man. Master Jason is still asleep." There was no warmth in Alfred's eyes nor any emotion in his voice. Bruce had _never_ seen Alfred this pissed off, not even when he came back suddenly after years of being off in another country only to announce that he was going to fight crime in the dark hours of the night. "I will be in the kitchen, Master Wayne, making dinner. If you find yourself unable to take care of yourself, you know where to find me."

If before he felt like a child being scolded, this was Alfred grounding him and sending him to his room. It made Bruce feel like he was ten again, a feeling he did _not_ appreciate. He gently moved Jason so that he wouldn't wake when Bruce stood up, and then the older man was out the door after Alfred.

The butler was rounding the corner to the kitchen when Bruce caught up with him. "What the _hell_?" He seethed.

Alfred was not at all surprised that Bruce had stormed after him. "Master Wayne," He said in the overly-polite but frigid voice he usually reserved for nosey reporters. "I have never known you to be a logical man - crusading around as a bat to avenge your parents' death is _certainly_ not a logical choice most would make - but I have known you to be a _smart_ man. Some even hail you as the greatest detective who has ever lived, for god's sake! How could you, you who never rejects a theory until there is sufficient evidence to prove otherwise, be so bloody dense!"

Bruce's face changed from furious to dumbfounded, but Alfred didn't give him pause to contradict his argument. "A couple of days ago - indeed, the very same day that Master Jason snuck off against your wishes - I was taking my cuppa when the atmosphere of the house changed. I did not say anything, because I know exactly how it sounds, but I was deeply unsettled. I started to clean, trying to take my mind off of things, and I wandered into a room just down the hall from your own. My thoughts were in other places and it took a moment for me to realize that the room was spotless. As far as I can recall, that room has been empty of occupants for decades, yet I was cleaning it as if it were part of my regular routine.

"That very same feeling that had urged me out of my rest returned tenfold. I knew that there was something special about that bedroom, so I said there until I received your summons to the cave to deal with Master Jason. I could tell from the expression on your face that you were not planning on telling me at all about the repercussions of that mission, and you know exactly why, you stubborn fool! Whoever we've forgotten is undoubtedly important to us! I stood in their bedroom and wept, I did not know why then, but now I know it's because I miss them keenly. I have known you far too long, Master Bruce, to have you pull wool over my eyes. You miss them too; the loss of their presence is a burdensome weight that is dragging your very soul down. So why on god's good green earth are you denying it like your very life depends on it!"

Alfred's words were a prick that popped the defensive bubble Bruce had been hiding behind, and he deflated against the wall. Shoulders drooping, and a shiny wetness in his eyes, Bruce shook his head. There was no way to accurately describe how he was feeling. His thoughts were jumbled up, and he couldn't string them together in a cohesive way.

"I'm... I'm scared, Alfred." He said finally, his voice a breathy whisper. He had lost his parents. He had lost his trust in the world. He had almost lost Jason. To think that he had already lost somebody he cared about and not even know it was... _excruciating_. He had vowed to never lose anyone ever again. He had trained his body and his mind to their peak so that if the people he cared about were ever threatened, he could stop it. So far, he had solved his problems by punching people, and the problems he couldn't solve through violence he had hidden away deep inside himself. This wasn't a problem that could be solved by breaking bones and demanding answers and that... that's what was scary.

He didn't know how to solve this problem. So he ignored it.

And it _hurt._

"Oh my dear boy," Alfred gripped Bruce's shoulder. "I am too."

* * *

It felt like he had blinked and two days had already passed by. Dick stood in the center of the gym in the mountain, not moving as Barbara and Kaldur sparred. Kaldur's body slipped through his as Barbara slammed him to the ground with a satisfied smirk. Looking down, Dick observed how his feet disappeared into Aqualad's abdomen and shuddered. He stepped to the side and rubbed his elbow, trying to make his body as small as he could. Babs laughed loudly as Artemis and M'gann cheered her on.

"Never underestimate a girl, Kal." Barbara offered her downed opponent her hand.

"I would never underestimate you, Batgirl," Kaldur took the hand and surged to his feet. "You are simply just that good."

"Ooh, points for sweet talking!" Wally crowed.

"If the truth is now synonymous with sweet talking, then we do not state the truth nearly enough." Kaldur dusted himself off and nodded at Barbara.

"Ooh," Dick murmured. "That was classy, Kal. May not have been flirting, but that sure won you points." He had long ago stopped expecting anyone to respond to his comments. Speaking aloud was mostly just to keep himself from going crazy. "Besides, it would take a lot more than that to get Babs to flirt back with you. Trust me, I've tried. Many times."

"Damn," Barbara folded her arms. "I've decided you're my new favorite. Sorry, Artie, but you've been replaced."

Artemis gasped in fake betrayal, but paused and pursed her lips. "I'm not even mad. Kaldur is my new favorite now too. Sorry, Wally."

"Nah it's okay, I knew you were only dating me for my body."

The archer shrugged. "You got me there."

Dick opened his mouth, but let out a ragged gasp instead of words. If he was there, _physically_ there, with his friends he would have snorted and said ' _right, his body. All that nonexistent muscles. Really something to drool over.'_ It would have prompted a good-natured banter between him and his best friend that would have ended with an impromptu sparring match - that Wally would have most likely won. He could picture it perfectly in his head because it had happened before. Many times, so often it was a normal routine of theirs.

Was he ever going to be able to talk to his friends again? Say something and actually have someone hear it and respond? Engage in training and late night pizza runs and the two am conversations where you bared your soul and really got to know the other person?

Being here but _not_ being here was too much. The mountain and the memories here, his teammates, his partners, his family. Too much going on, but not enough. Not what he needed. Not what he craved.

He was intimately familiar with pain. Bruce had warned him when he became Robin that physical pain was inevitable. True to his word, Dick had been shot, stabbed, and beaten with a baseball bat until his body was black and blue and every breath was a struggle. He bore every scar on his body with pride because he had earned it doing something good. Helping people, saving people. Every time someone pushed him down, Dick had gotten back up. Physical pain was something he didn't enjoy, but accepted. He could endure it, no matter what happened.

Emotional pain, however, was ten times worse than physical pain. His scars that decorated his torso and legs were proof that he had survived and persevered. The scars in his mind, the ones that nobody - not even him - could see, those were the ones that nailed his wrists to the wall and held him under a current. It was the type of pain that could only be described as soul crushing. The dual thuds of his parents' skulls breaking as their heads hit the floor, a sound he could remember in impeccable detail, feeling abandoned and then _replaced_ by the man he thought of as his father, that pain grounded him into dust and left him feeling empty.

Despair lodged itself into the base of his throat, and Dick could not swallow passed it. He was gone, he realised. A fate worse than death, as Klarion had put it. As painful as losing his parents had been, and the shock and loneliness that had come with their passing, he hadn't really lost them. His father's voice gently singing him to sleep still played in his mind in the early hours of the morning when he missed them so _bad_. His mother cupping his cheeks and telling him how he reminded her of a robin propelled him to try and be better whenever he just wanted to give in and stop.

A robin's whistle sounded like _cheery-up, cheer-cheery-up_ , according to his mother. She would grin broadly and use her thumbs to push the corners of Dick's mouth up into a smile. A robin's whistle brought her hope, she said, and a reminder that even when things were awful, you could whistle and bring a little bit of happiness to others. And so, when eight-year-old Dick saw shadows of anguish lining the thin smile Bruce Wayne had given him when he offered Dick a home, he decided he would try to bring happiness into the life of the man who saved him.

Robin was the hope to intertwine with Batman's justice. Justice was incomplete without the hope that you could try again and resolve to be better. Then Batman had fired his Robin, and Dick had determined to become what Batman could not be; a hero who was hope and justice wrapped into one. He had shed the name Robin to represent growth: his own personal growth.

He had thought Bruce knew how much that name meant to him. It wasn't just the name his mother had given him, it was a mantra. And then he had met Jason.

M'gann flying through his head brought Dick out of his thoughts and he blinked. His team was now seated in a circle, solemn looks on their faces.

"It's been three days now," Conner started, sliding his hand under M'gann's as she crossed her legs and floated down to the ground. "What have we all discovered so far?"

They were talking about him. But they weren't really talking about Dick, because he was _gone._ They weren't searching for him specifically, they weren't looking for their close friend who had gone through so much with all of them, they were just looking for someone. Like detectives trying to find out the name of a victim they knew was killed. They were doing it because it was right, not because they actually had a deep personal interest. It hurt, even though it shouldn't.

He needed to scream or punch something, but he couldn't because nothing would happen, he wasn't actually _here_.

Maybe it would be better if he didn't exist at all.

If he didn't exist, it wouldn't feel like he was being eaten from the inside out. He was seconds from imploding and there was nothing, _nothing_ , he could do about it.

Dick didn't want to hear about the progress they hadn't made. The clues they couldn't find. The time that was quickly running out. The person they couldn't remember. Blocking out the conversation, Dick stood up and walked through the closed gym door. His lungs were too small and every breath made his shoulders shake. If he held his breath would he die? It had been three days and he hadn't slept or eaten or had the need to use the bathroom. Did he need to breathe?

 _Bruce._

He needed Bruce to shake him out of this panic attack. To keep him from dissociating. Closing his eyes, Dick wrapped his arms around his torso and sank to the floor. Bruce had never told him that he loved him, but he had shown it through his actions. A pat on the back for a job-well-done, a comforting hand through his hair. He just needed Bruce's solid foundation to keep him from sinking.

The sound of rain started as a gentle rap, but quickly swelled to thunderous drums. Opening his eyes, he saw wet green grass plastered down into a mat. It couldn't rain in a mountain... Dick lifted his head as lightning struck, illuminating the large structure of the manor. He was in Gotham; he was home. If he could just see his surrogate grandfather, his dad, and his younger brother, it would be okay. Bruce would make it okay. There was nothing Batman couldn't do.

A small voice in the back of his mind told him he was being childish as Dick stood up and ran to the front door. He was only setting himself up for crushing disappointment, but that didn't matter, not right now. He needed something to hold onto to keep him from drowning. The entryway was dark he registered as he passed through the door. Not pausing to check the first floor for life, he sprinted down the hallway and up a flight of stairs. The first floor was more for public appearances than actual living. The second floor had the bedrooms and Bruce's study and the lounge and gameroom.

There was a light on in the lounge, a sliver of yellow on the plush gray carpet showing from under the door. Dick's stride faltered and he paused just outside of the door. Who would he find in there? Or the more important question, was being alone better than being alone surrounded by people? Carefully he rapped his knuckles against the wood, but it made no sound since he didn't allow his fingers to touch the wood. He didn't want to see them vanish behind the solid object. He bit his lip in disappointment as nothing moved inside of the room. Five minutes passed as he shifted his weight, vainly praying that this time it would be different.

Giving in, Dick walked into the room. "Jason," He murmured as he caught sight of the younger boy. Jason was sitting on the couch, his ankle in a splint and his leg propped up on an ottoman. A pair of headphones were jammed in his ears and his fingers flew across the keyboard of his laptop. Jason frowned and glanced down at an opened book propped on the couch next to him. He flipped a couple of pages, his eyes quickly scanning for what he wanted. Humming to the music he was listening to, Jason nodded and turned back to his computer.

Tiptoeing up to him, Dick peered down at the screen. If Jason knew he was here, the younger boy would scowl and hide the screen from prying eyes, and probably say something bitter. He really didn't like it when people looked over his shoulder at what he was doing.

"English paper?" Dick said in surprise as he read a descriptive analysis of the book _Treasure Island._ He loved that book; it was the first one he had read when he came to live in the manor. The younger him had been excited and a little overwhelmed when Bruce had shown him his extensive library and told him he was always welcomed to it. He had been nervous so he had grabbed the first book he saw, which happened to be an old, but barely used copy of _Treasure Island._ That book had gotten him through many boring parties.

He was shocked that Jason was doing homework - homework that was _fantastic_ in fact - and he genuinely seemed to be enjoying himself. Guilt flushed through his system and he turned his head. "I'm sorry, Jay." He said because it needed to be said. Sorry for taking his problems with Bruce out on him. For not trying to get to know him better. For immediately judging him at face value and then struggling to let go of his own prejudices. A flash of green from the television screen and Dick snorted as he realized what was playing.

"This is so ironic," He said to Jason as Danny Fenton, the boy who was half ghost transformed into alter-ego. "No," Dick pursed his lips and reconsidered. He crossed his legs and sat down on the ground next to Jason's uninjured leg. "It's ironic when something you're not expecting to happen happens. With how my day's been going, I totally expected something like this to happen. This? This is a really shitty coincidence." Jason hummed to his song and for a second Dick pretended he was responding to his comment. "See, never let anyone say that your older brother never helped you with your English homework."

Jason yawned and paused to stretch. He looked up at the cartoon playing and watched for a minute before turning back to his paper. The song must have changed to one he enjoyed, because the foot next to Dick started bouncing up and down to the beat. "I know just what you want," Jason sang softly. "You don't want to be alone."

Dick sighed. "Nailed that one right on the nose, kid."

He turned his attention back to the TV and watched as Danny Phantom pummeled a ghost of a lunch lady. That seemed to be the root of all his problems: his fear of being alone.

It was going to be a long two weeks and four days.

* * *

(A/N) So I guess I should be apologizing for the huge delay between the second chapter and the third. Truth is I went through some very hard personal shit last month that made writing very difficult for me. This chapter turned into more of an introspection and meta than a plot-exploration chapter like it was meant to be. I will try to get the next chapter out in a timely manner, but I'm still working through the things that made this chapter so hard to write. Please be patient with me, that's all I ask.

Reviews are love! Huge thanks to everyone that reviewed last chapter and especially to haunt-the-stars on tumblr who sent me some much-needed kind words and prompted me to finally finish this chapter!


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